Missing
by Junior'sGirl
Summary: *COMPLETE*Sam and John in the future. Sam is abducted by Jack...she is 8 mos. pregnant. Can the VCTF reunite to save her and the baby?
1. Hopeless

Disclaimer: They're not mine, I don't own any of 'em…blah, blah, blah.  
  
This story if most definitely an SJR. It's my first Profiler fanfic, so I would like your comments, but please go easy on me. Bear with me though, because it's a little out-dated. I wrote it back when Profiler was still on the air. Then, I discovered this site and figured I might as well post it here. Note: when you see this * it means the writing is a thought. I wrote about episodes of the show, but added my own stuff as well. I did not include the newer episodes with Rachel.  
  
Background: Sam and John are married (yeah!!) and Sam is very pregnant. Nathan never disappeared (Where did he go?!) and concerning Sam's background, I made her really smart. If anything else is unclear, well, I'm sure you can figure it out.  
  
MISSING  
  
Chapter One  
  
Agent Bailey Malone motioned several agents to cover the house as he and Nathan Brubaker made for the door with John Grant at their heels.  
  
"Where are you going?" Bailey asked John. The younger man just looked at him stupidly, not understanding the question.  
  
"Why can't he come?" Nate asked, wondering.  
  
"I can't come? What are you talking about? That bastard has my wife! Are you crazy?!" John shouted, finally comprehending. Bailey weighed the aspects. *John was trained, but because he had left the FBI, he was no longer authorized for a takedown. On the other hand, John had wanted to face Jack for the past nine years; and Sam was his wife…*  
  
"Fine. C'mon."  
  
The house was dim and musty, seemingly empty. The three men were unsure as they systematically checked each room looking for Samantha Grant.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Staying together for safety, the two FBI agents and the APD Captain made their way deeper into the house, finding the basement. *Please let Sammy be okay…* John thought, his gun trained over Bailey's shoulder at the basement door.  
  
"Shit." Nate muttered as they stepped into the dark room. The smell of blood was overpowering. John immediately feared the worst and was only slightly relieved when Bailey shone the flashlight he had been carrying on a mattress in the corner of the room.  
  
No words would form as he looked at the still-fresh blood that completely soaked the full-size mattress.  
  
"Where is she?" Bailey thought aloud. After searching once more, the three left the house, joining the others outside.  
  
"Maybe…maybe he…he…he staged this…this…" John stammered with fear, running a shaking, nervous hand through his short brown hair. All his years on the APD and his five with the FBI had not made the abduction of his pregnant wife any easier.  
  
"Gracie will be able to tell us what it is all about." Bailey replied.  
  
"What we really need is Sam and her 'hocus-pocus' skills." Nate added, smiling a sad smile.  
  
"Bailey, I want the truth," John started strongly. "From experience, how long do you give Sam, adding in the fact that she's a trained agent and really smart, but subtracting because she's eight-and-a-half months pregnant."  
  
"I…I would give…Sam could last…" Bailey stammered.  
  
"This is either good or bad, depending on how you look at it," Grace interrupted, snapping off her latex gloves and saving Bailey from having to rip apart John's heart and soul.  
  
"What are you talking about?" John asked, turning his full attention to the Medical Examiner.  
  
"The scene in the basement. It has told me a lot. First, Sam had the baby. Mixed in with all that blood, most of which is Sam's, is amniotic fluid and a minute amount of AB negative blood. Sam is A negative, you're B, John, and Jack is O negative, so…"  
  
"The baby is bleeding?"  
  
"No, it's probably just from cutting its umbilical cord."  
  
"You said it was either good or bad?" Nate asked. *I missed the birth of my first child…John thought… and if we don't find Sammy, there might not be any more babies. *  
  
"Yes," Grace replied, "The good part is that the blood, because it is still somewhat fresh, shows us that Sam is still alive as of one or two o'clock. The bad news is that she had the baby." Grace glanced at John, not liking the painful expression on his handsome face. "Jack now has access to the baby. He can, well, he…the baby is no longer safe. Second, Sam, although she's still alive, is at a disadvantage because she's weakened and probably in pain. The labor could have had complications…we don't know. Jack's moving her from this scene wasn't beneficial to her; or the baby, for that matter."  
  
"Great. Not only can the asshole torture my wife, now he can also torture my baby, too." John said. *And he can hurt the baby more easily…and use it as a weapon so Sam does what he wants her to…and kill them both just out of spite…and…* "God!! I hate this mother fucker!" he exclaimed as his mind wandered.  
  
No one in the group even told him not to worry. Nobody said, "It'll be okay, we'll get her back." They couldn't even lie to him because the situation was so seemingly hopeless. 


	2. Don't Give Up

Chapter Two  
  
Sam lay in the dark room, only dimly aware that she had been moved to a new location. Through the haze of pain and fear in her mind, she could hear the baby crying far away. She had stopped praying for her own safety and the baby's long ago and now only hoped that her child would survive. Jack had taken the baby away right after it was born, not telling Sam what he was doing. She was not even able to hold it. She wanted desperately to soothe the child's fears, but couldn't. Jack had handcuffed her right hand to the wall with an eyebolt, but she doubted if that even mattered. The labor had been painful without an epidural and she had lost a lot of blood. She was sure that the fact that she had not eaten anything for days probably wasn't helpful. Floating back into unconsciousness, she thought about how nice it would be to see John and her baby before she died.  
  
"How did he even know where she was?" Nate asked John as the group sat in Bailey's office at the FBI's Atlanta Field Office. John shook his head.  
  
"When I came home from my shift, the door was wide open. I really didn't think anything of it; I mean, Jack hasn't popped up in four years, but the house was a mess. There were lamps and vases on the floor, appliances all over in the kitchen, and the knife with the blood on it on the counter. Sammy knew she had to make a mess. Otherwise, I would have thought she had just gone out. Plus, there was the message he left us on the answering machine, giving us the address of that house."  
  
"Jack left the door open for added emphasis; he wants us to find her." Bailey added.  
  
"The blood was Jack's, so Sam wounded him, but not severely. The coagulation of the blood tells us that he abducted her between seven to nine in the morning." Grace pointed out. *Right after I left for work,* John thought.  
  
"What I don't understand is why she went with him. Couldn't she have run? Or shot him?" Nate queried.  
  
"That's a stupid question, Nate." John retorted hotly, "She's eight months pregnant, as big as a house, how far could she have gotten? As it is, she struggled quite a bit. My spare weapon is on the top shelf of the hall closet. I doubt she had the time to find a ladder; if she could even climb it."  
  
"Enough." Bailey intervened. "Jack could find people who knew Sam when she was nine years old. I'm sure it wasn't that hard for him to find her. He probably knew she was pregnant, with your child, and timed it this way. He knows that having a baby in the picture makes things harder for us, rescue-wise, and makes you even more eager to kill him. He enjoys these games. The baby is just a pawn."  
  
"Thanks a lot, Bailey." John said bitterly.  
  
"I know how much you love her, but you said back at the scene that you wanted the truth. I'm giving it to you. I wouldn't bet the farm on a successful double rescue. We're even pushing our luck on just one."  
  
"They've only been gone three days…"  
  
"If they were only gone for one, our chances would be improved tenfold."  
  
"We can't give up." John pleaded. *I can't lose her, not now, not after things have been so great. Not after I've finally realized what love can be, and how it feels. I need her to live. *  
  
"We won't."  
  
Sam drifted back to reality and instantly wished she hadn't. The baby wasn't crying, which made her afraid. She tried to shake to fog from her brain; the watch on her left arm read 10:14, but she didn't know if it was day or night. She couldn't feel her right hand because it hung from the handcuff; its circulation cut off. With only one free hand, she couldn't sit up, not that she wanted to; her entire body hurt.  
  
"Jack?" Sam whispered hoarsely, breaking the silence with her own raspy voice. No answer. *Did he take the baby somewhere? she wondered, Where did he go? Is he still here, hiding, watching me? I want to try to escape, but there is no way in hell I am leaving my baby. I will die before that happens.* Another tremor of pain ran through her body, *If I don't get out of here soon, I just might. Funny, I think I hear sirens…* 


	3. Found

Chapter Three  
  
"We've got a lead!" George exclaimed, furiously typing on a laptop wired in Bailey's office.  
  
"How? Where!" Both John and Bailey asked simultaneously.  
  
"The APD just sent us a copy of a 12-20 call from downtown. You're not going to believe this, but a woman called in the 12-20, a disruption of peace, at around nine this morning. It seems she was exceedingly bothered by the sound of a screaming baby from the house next-door to hers. That wouldn't necessarily be out-of-the-ordinary, except the baby had been at it non-stop for the whole night and the house has been on the market for the past seven months. A baby shouldn't be there." George finished, smiling a huge grin.  
  
"Do you think its Jack?" Grace asked, turning to Bailey.  
  
"It couldn't hurt for us to try."  
  
When the cars screeched to a halt in front of the immodest home, a figure in black was just exiting the wooden double doors. The federal cars and squad cars, lights flashing, pulled right onto the front lawn after their drivers saw that the figure was indeed that of the infamous Jack-of-all- trades. The tires left ugly black tracks, marring the crisp greenness of the grass. Doors opened and heavily armed men emerged, the letters FBI emblazoned on their navy-blue jackets in yellow. From the squads came men with bulletproof vests, APD written in white. A black van pulled into the empty driveway, SWAT members spilling out onto the lawn, then dispersing around the house to cover any retreat by the serial killer in the doorway. He held a small bundle.  
  
John and a small group of APD officers waited behind their open car doors despite the fact that John wanted nothing more than to pump as many bullets as he could into Jack then run into that house for Sam and his baby.  
  
"Don't move!" Bailey shouted to Jack, still on the house's top step. "Put down the blanket, and put your hands up!" Jack bent and laid the bundle in his hands down on the step next to him. "Step down and walk forward!" Bailey continued, still shouting. "On the ground! Get on the ground!" Jack complied. As they all watched, the most vicious serial killer they had ever encountered slowly kneeled on the ground and pressed his face to the cold pavement. To them, Jack looked willing to be arrested, willing to be locked away in a maximum-security prison, willing to be sentenced to death.  
  
When Jack was down, Bailey waved his hand and three of his agents went to the door, guns trained on Jack. They handcuffed him, trying their hardest to control their tempers. They pulled him roughly into a standing position, then shoved him down the walk, right past John. Jack planted his feet firmly on the concrete and refused to move. John's green eyes looked straight at Jack, their depths filled with hatred and disgust.  
  
"Now I know why you married her," Jack stated, staring right back despite the fact that John had six inches on him, "She is superb in bed…even pregnant." He added, smirking. John's temper exploded and he swung at Jack, his fighter's fist hitting the killer's face with a sickening thwack. Dark red blood immediately flowed from Jack's nose. John was going to go for him again, but his officers held him back.  
  
"It won't do any good, Captain." One of the officers consoled as John seethed with anger, "We have him, he'll get what's coming to him." Suddenly, Jack broke free of the three agents holding him and headed for a space between two squads, running awkwardly with his hands restrained behind his back. It was then that John took the opportunity to avenge the abduction of his wife and child as well as the deaths of thirty-two people. Firing only once, John's expertly aimed bullet pierced Jack's heart. The killer fell to his knees with a thud, as John lowered his gun. It all happened within a matter of seconds.  
  
"It's the baby!" a young officer yelled from the doorstep. He had picked up the blanket Jack left on the step. The law-enforcement teams forgot about Jack's dying form and focused on the baby. John re-holstered his gun and ran to the child he instinctively knew was his.  
  
The young cop pulled the blanket away from the baby's small face. Blue eyes, as big as saucers, glowed up at them. They weren't really blue; they were a shade of deep violet, unusual for a baby, unless its mother had the same colored eyes. They were the eyes that had mesmerized John from the moment he had met Sam.  
  
John remembered when he had first met her; the APD had asked the FBI for help with the "Saturday Night Stalker" and Bailey had brought Sam in to create a profile. She and John, then just a detective, had butted heads instantly.  
  
John resented Bailey and Sam's very presence on his case. He was a typical big-city cop: bothered by outside help, but still wanting the killing to stop. He needed results. If they didn't solve the five murders, it was his head, badge, and reputation on the line as well as more lives. The killer struck every Saturday, so they were racing the clock before Number Six came along.  
  
Sam also increasingly bothered him. Bailey had introduced her only as "Sam", nothing else. She was extremely beautiful, brilliantly smart, and very young to be the Bureau's top profiler. He had no doubt that she didn't know what she was doing; she had profiled him when he had been hounding her.  
  
"You want a theory?" She had asked, her indigo eyes blazing as she faced him, a tough little thing full of spirit. She stood at least six inches shorter than him, but took him on. "You've got Chinese food in your fridge, you like your Scotch straight, your women in heels, and yourself definitely on top."  
  
He was speechless, but broke into a boyish grin. She had hit it right on the head. Except for that "on the top" thing. Hey, he was willing to experiment.  
  
"But, it's just a theory." Sam added, walking away, flashing him a stunningly sarcastic smile and arousing his curiosity once more.  
  
"But who is she?" John had pushed, "Is she FBI?"  
  
"No, not technically." Bailey replied, doing nothing to abate John's fascination for the stunning blond whose blue-violet eyes seemed to hold a terrible secret. Sam Waters had retired from the Bureau so was not an "actual" member of the FBI.  
  
"Then who does she work for?" John pressed.  
  
"Just leave it alone, John. All you need to know is that she's the best forensic psychologist I've ever met. Everything else is irrelevant."  
  
John didn't pursue it any further, not until Sam had found an overlooked clue at the scene of the fifth murder. The case could turn on her information and John wasn't going to risk it.  
  
They had closed the case, because of Sam, but John had uncovered her secret in the process.  
  
"I told you to let it be, but you couldn't. You had to dig stuff up. You had to snoop around, be nosy. You could have cost Sam her life!" Bailey exclaimed, coming to John's apartment the night after the younger man and George had tapped into FBI databases searching for information on Sam. They hadn't found anything, only increased their own curiosity. If she worked for the FBI, she had disappeared from all their records. Why was the FBI protecting her?  
  
"We didn't find anything." John informed Bailey as he put his take-out box of chicken chow-mien back in his fridge.  
  
"That doesn't matter."  
  
"You know me by now, Bailey. You can trust me. I just want to know. There's just…just something about her."  
  
"I know." Bailey agreed, smiling.  
  
"Why are the Feds protecting her?"  
  
"They're not. They don't even know where she is. To the FBI, Samantha Waters doesn't, and never did, exist." Bailey watched John. The detective was eager for answers. He decided to go on. John was a good guy, trustworthy. Besides, maybe he could help Sam. "You remember the serial killer Jack-of-all-trades?" he asked.  
  
"Sure. Eighteen different victims, each killed a different way, all across the country,"  
  
"Eighteen we know of. I brought Sam in on the case in '94, after she helped catch Ted Kazynsky. She made some headway; we were catching up to him. Then, Jack found out about her, became obsessed.  
  
"He started sending her things, calling her at home, at work, when she was out with her family. We don't know how he found out about her; profilers aren't as visible as lead investigators, but he did and saw her as his only equal. Genius versus genius.  
  
"We put guards on her and her house around the clock, but it didn't stop. She was scared for her husband and daughter, who was four at the time, so she passed the case along to someone else. Jack missed her, felt betrayed and angry. He wanted her back, so he upped the ante and did the one thing he knew would bring her back into the loop. He killed her husband while her daughter slept upstairs.  
  
"Sam retired, sold the house, and moved into a farmhouse in the country that was owned by her best-friend, Angel Brown. She disappeared. She didn't have a job, so didn't pay taxes, and cut up her credit cards. Her mail was forwarded to me and Chloe started school under a different last name.  
  
"Jack's not the only thing she's hiding from. She's also hiding from us. Sam is special." Bailey went on. John knew she was special, he was already planning to ask her to dinner. "Sam is five years ahead of her Bureau counterparts. She's a genius, skipped straight to second grade in elementary school and entered Wake Forest University with sophomore standing at sixteen. Quantico accepted her six years later and she worked on her Ph.D. while she went through her training with the Behavioral Science Unit which took only four years rather than six or seven. She's not psychic; she just knows everything there is to know." 


	4. Reunion

Author's Note: This chapter deals with death, so beware.  
  
Chapter Four  
  
John had eventually, a year -and-a-half later, asked the brilliant Dr. Waters to dinner. Much to his immeasurable surprise, she had accepted. It took him so long because Sam had started dating Nick Cooper from the ATF. When Jack killed Nick out of jealousy, John was Sam's shoulder to cry on. He even spent nights at her house after Jack had left threatening messages and sent bloody letters in the mail. They gradually deepened their friendship into a romance, but only after John thoroughly convinced her that he could handle Jack and Sam came face to face with her demons concerning falling in love again.  
  
Just as Grace had predicted, John and Sam quickly fell deeply in love, after Sam allowed herself to. Reminiscing over the good times, John will always remember the week he and Sam spent at his mountain cabin. It was six days of happiness and joy, six days away from murder and death, but sadly, the last six days of their five-year relationship.  
  
Many times during that week, John had wanted to propose marriage to Sam, but always found a reason not to. It was mostly insecurity that held him back. Sam was a psychologist, a brilliant and beautiful woman. Sometimes he wondered why she loved him. When they had been a part of the FBI's Violent Crimes Task Force, he and Nate had been the grunts; the hired hands used for intimidation, while Sam and Bailey had been the brains. He didn't have a doctorate, or even a college education, having joined the Atlanta Police at eighteen.  
  
Sam told him repeatedly that she didn't care how smart, how rich, or what kind of job he had. She had even written out a list of good points out for him on the drive home from the mountains when he finally got the nerve to ask her why she loved him. Sam's analytical mind produced an extensive list ranging from how he made her feel safe to his love for her to his nice butt and beautiful eyes. Ultimately, he was convinced, and the list didn't matter. It was just the simple fact that she loved him, for whatever reason.  
  
Having blown his chance of proposing at the cabin, John planned to take her out to propose, but was never given the chance. He and Sam returned from the mountains to find Sam's daughter, Chloe, and best friend, Angel, murdered in Sam's FBI protected loft on Magnolia Boulevard, the four agents guarding them also killed.  
  
They turned the corner onto Magnolia laughing, but went silent when they saw the flashing red and blue bubble lights at the end of the boulevard. The VCTF's two white Suburban trucks were in the driveway, surrounded by APD squads and unmarked federal cars, doors open and lights flashing. As Sam and John watched, an ambulance backed up onto the grass, but next to it was the coroner's van.  
  
Sam bounded out the passenger side of John's Explorer before he even had the truck in park and ran to the front door of the loft, which stood open. She ignored the looks of pity and concern in the eyes of the other agents milling around the ground floor of the loft as she made her way to the elevator. The ground floor was Angel's studio; large metal sculptures and works in progress crowded every space. Sam did not wait for John; an officer at the door had waylaid him. John reached the elevator and watched it go up, then down, knowing the scene above was not going to be good.  
  
As he stepped off the elevator, he saw Sam being embraced by Bailey Malone, tears on the usually stoic agent's weathered face. Looking around, John saw too many plainclothes officers and detectives. Remembering the coroner's van, he knew things were bad. John shoved his way through the crowd, making his way to Sam and Bailey. The forensic team had come and gone, and the plainclothes were slowly filing into the elevator, each with a sad expression, some even crying. Bailey had freed Sam and she turned away from him, staring at the floor.  
  
Sam stared at the ground; her large eyes focused on the large pool of crimson blood covering the polished oak of the living room floor. The blood had sneaked into the light blue carpet under the coffee table, ruining its beautiful woven pattern. John reached out a shaking hand to her shoulder, but she sank to the floor, kneeling next to the body. Sam gently lifted the lifeless body of her daughter, staining her white sweater with Chloe's blood. She held Chloe tightly while fresh tears flowed down her pale cheeks. When Sam started to cry uncontrollably, John broke down. His eyes overflowed and he sank down next to Sam, enfolding both she and Chloe in his strong arms. John's tears slowly ebbed, but Sam's continued as she slowly rocked in his arms, holding onto Chloe's body fiercely.  
  
"My baby... he...he killed... my baby..." Sam cried between sobs. Her beautiful face was contorted in pain and sadness, as was John's heart. John turned behind him to Bailey, who nodded. Grace was waiting. Sam felt John's body stiffen and knew it was time to let go.  
  
"Don't, please don't... don't cut them up... we...we know how they... how they, they..." Sam pleaded, trying, but stopped by tears. Grace nodded, her brown eyes crying. Sam released Chloe as she and John stood, both smeared with dark blood. The little body rested on the floor until it was lifted onto a stretcher in a body bag. Sam moved to Angel, who lay in front of the kitchen counter, not far from where Chloe had fallen. Sam's best friend looked as though she were sleeping, her face beautiful and peaceful. Sam kneeled down and brushed a strand of Angel's dark, curly hair away from her pale, cold face, leaving its beauty unmarred. Then, she rose, and ignoring John and Bailey's questions and protests, left the loft, fresh tears stinging her eyes as she blindly made her way to the street.  
  
John felt Bailey's strong grip on his arm as he tried to follow Sam.  
  
"Just let her go. She needs time to handle this her own way."  
  
"But she's not safe alone."  
  
"I don't think she cares."  
  
"Well I do."  
  
"John, there is no doubt in my mind that you don't love her, but you can't help her." Bailey said firmly, "This is how it was with Tom; she'll come back when she's ready."  
  
"Tell me what happened. After you're done, I'm going after her, so start now." John ordered, ready to learn the horrible story. He wanted to be angry so he could forget about the pain in his heart.  
  
He tried to find her, but couldn't. After searching the entire city, he returned to the loft to see Sam there, packing her things into the suitcase for a flight to Europe.  
  
"What are you talking about, Sammy?" John asked, loosening his striped tie.  
  
"I said that I was leaving. It's not your fault, so don't look at me as if I'm blaming you. It's his fault, not yours. Blame him. He's taken them away and I will not wait around for him to take you away, too. By staying here, I'm making you a target. He will kill you if I stay." Sam explained, stuffing clothes into a suitcase.  
  
"I can handle Jack." John told her, watching. His green eyes were sad.  
  
"No you can't!" Sam yelled, her pain and fear getting the better of her as tears spilled from her big eyes. "You can't! He'll kill you…I know he will." The last words were a whisper, barely audible.  
  
"So you're protecting me by hurting us both. We're stronger together. Besides, after you leave, Jack might kill me then come after you."  
  
"That would be better than watching each other die or knowing the other was dead. This way, we can each pretend, we can think, that the other is still alive."  
  
"How will you live? Where will the money come from?"  
  
"I have Tom's pension from the University, his insurance policy, and money from the sale of the farm."  
  
"Will you at least let me know where you are?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Don't you even care, Sammy?" John asked quietly, watching her. Her eyes clouded and her brows knit together. She did not know how to answer.  
  
"Don't you even care about me? I love you." he added, surprised at his own words.  
  
"You can love someone else." Sam replied, her bottom lip quivering. John knew she was lying; she could never tell him to love someone else. Sam had loved before, deeply with all her heart. Love was sacred to her because she knew first hand how easily it could be taken away. She had given John everything, even when she had been scared to do so.  
  
"Don't you care if I hate you?" John asked, grasping at straws, not caring if he made her feel guilty. If she stayed, that wouldn't matter.  
  
"I'd rather you hate me than be dead." Sam replied sadly, their eyes meeting as she finished packing. Walking to John, she reached up and touched his face with her small hand. Their lips came together for one last, gentle kiss.  
  
"I do love you..." Sam whispered. Then, she lifted the suitcase and walked out, the bulletproof iron door clicking closed behind the only woman John had ever given his soul to.  
  
She left him, planning to leave her memories too. He and Bailey had called Chloe's grandparents, Sam's in-laws, as well as Angel's relatives. The double funeral was somber and simple; Chloe and Angel were buried next to Sam's husband Tom. Taking all the responsibility onto his shoulders for burying her daughter, John had been angry with Sam. Then he realized that watching another person whom she loved so much being laid to rest would push Sam over the edge.  
  
Sam's flight had left emptiness in his heart that he filled the only way he knew how: work. Without their top profiler, Bailey Malone's Task Force fell apart. Sam had been the best; Bailey had formed it around her. The replacement Bailey tried to bring in just wasn't up to par and cases weren't being closed. The FBI dissolved the Task Force, sending its members onto reassignments or giving them the option of retirement. John, Grace, and George, their computer specialist, retired and returned to their old jobs with the Atlanta Police while Nate and Bailey remained with the FBI. Bailey stayed in Atlanta, becoming the Atlanta Field Office's Special Agent in Charge while Nate transferred to New York.  
  
The Violent Crimes Task Force had been Bailey's dream, an elite team of specialized agents investigating violent serial criminals, but without a high closure rate, he couldn't persuade the government to keep allocating funds. The field office continued the Jack-of-all-trades case.  
  
Jack-of-all-trades' main signature was that he killed mostly people Sam knew, or had known. Her childhood pediatrician, community librarian, the man who lived next door to her when she was a child, a woman who had been in a ballet class with her when she was nine, her second grade school teacher. The other victims were strangers, but each provided a clue to Jack's past.  
  
He had targeted every member of the team at least once, but John received special treatment. Jack burned John's apartment building to the ground, kidnapped him, shot him, and sent him letters dripping with blood. Bailey had been framed for the murder of a young waitress, Nate had been pinned under his classic car while fixing its transmission, George had been threatened and Grace's husband, Morgan, had been hung by his ankles right over a filled bathtub while an electrical current snaked its way into the rapidly rising water.  
  
The team made a lot of progress; even finding Jack's home, but never caught up to him. They had come close on several occasions, Sam even shot him once, but in the end, he had escaped. After Chloe and Angel's deaths, Jack stopped killing, probably because Sam had disappeared.  
  
Sam had sent John birthday and Christmas cards, but on every envelope, there was never a return address. One card was always post-marked from a different town, always one that John had never heard of and could never find on a map; or even sometimes even pronounce.  
  
The cards let John know that Sam was still alive, but she never knew if her cards were ever received. She traveled Europe with only her small suitcase, a pack, and a camera, reviving her old hobby of photography. In Venice, she decided to develop her film, all black and white, and was confronted by dark images of loneliness. The world's most famous landmarks, even pictures of crowds teeming with life, all seemed sad to Sam. It was then, two years after leaving, that she decided to go back.  
  
Sam showed up at the APD, not sure if John was even there. 


	5. Captain Grant's Wife

Chapter Five  
  
  
  
The secretary looked up from her desk as Sam approached.  
  
"Excuse me? I'm looking for a man who works here. Well, he used to work here. He might still work here. I'm not sure." Sam asked nervously.  
  
"What's his name, ma'am?" the secretary asked, smiling helpfully.  
  
"John...John Grant." Sam replied hesitantly, pushing a strand of blond hair behind her ear.  
  
"Oh, sure. The Captain's in his office." the secretary said, relieved that she would not have to search the entire police department looking for the mystery man.  
  
"Captain?" Sam said quietly, smiling.  
  
"Would you like me to show you to his office?"  
  
"No thank you, I know where it is. Thank you very much, though."  
  
Sam walked away, leaving the secretary to wonder about the connection between she and Captain Grant. She made her way to the office, smoothing her knee length black skirt and then laughing at herself for doing so. John had seen her after she had gone searching for a killer in the muddy caves under an Indian reservation in Utah. She had been covered head to toe with mud and dirt yet he had practically crushed her with a bear hug.  
  
When she came to the office door, she was strongly tempted to run back to the airport and jump onto the first flight to Paris. Throughout her flight to Atlanta, she had prayed that John was still alive. Since he was, she was now hoping that he had forgiven her. She swallowed her fear,* it had been how long since she last saw him?, * and knocked on the door.  
  
John had been quietly sorting through the huge stack of paperwork on his desk before he had been interrupted by the knock at the door. He usually kept the door open, to be closer to the action in the squad room, but his unit was on "the list" for a new detective and his boys kept poking their heads in to give their opinions on who would make a welcome addition. The stack of papers were transfers into homicide from other departments.  
  
When the door opened, she was the very last person he had expected to come walking in.  
  
"Sammy?" he asked, although it wasn't really a question. John knew who she was, how could he not?  
  
"Hi, John." Sam said quietly, smiling, "Or should I say Captain?"  
  
It took the seasoned veteran a while to reply; he was staring like a schoolboy at his long-lost love.  
  
"Uh, yeah. I made Captain about six months ago. Where have you been?" John asked, as Sam still stood in the doorway, uncertain.  
  
"Europe. It was really nice." she replied, nervous.  
  
"You were safe there?" he asked, motioning her to sit in one of the gray upholstered chairs in front of the desk. She nodded.  
  
"You look great." John complimented, feeling awkward despite the fact that he and Sam had shared so much. She had not changed.  
  
"Thanks, you look good, too." Sam replied, just as awkwardly. Her azure eyes looked around the room, surveying her surroundings. They finally came to rest on John's grass green eyes. Eyes that looked tired.  
  
"I missed you," she said quietly, making him love her all over again. After she left more than two years ago, he had wanted to hate her, but couldn't.  
  
They resumed their relationship, and a year later John finally got the chance to propose. They married at a very small ceremony at the mountain cabin; only Bailey, Grace and her husband Morgan, George, and Nate were present. Six months later, Sam told him she was pregnant, fulfilling the second dream he had wished since he met her.  
  
She came down to the APD, but didn't go to John's office. Instead, she headed for the morgue to see Grace. The Medical Examiner, Sam's sister/mother/friend all rolled into one was ecstatic, after just having a baby herself only five months earlier. Sam wanted Grace's opinion on how and when she should tell John. Then, Sam called Bailey, wanting to know if she needed some security, despite the fact that Jack hadn't been heard from for over three years. Sam hadn't rejoined the FBI; she consulted on a few of their cases and helped John with a few for the APD. Other than that, she was infinitely happy just being "Captain Grant's wife". Bailey saw no need for a security upgrade. John had always protected Sam before; plus, she was a trained agent, and Jack hadn't struck out when the two had married, why would he try now that Sam was pregnant? 


	6. Jack's Back

Chapter Six  
  
  
  
*Boy, we were so wrong about Jack.* Sam thought as she strained to hear the sounds from above. She knew there was something going on up there and she was fairly certain that Jack and the baby were nowhere near her. *I just want this to end…forever.*  
  
After three years of not hearing a word from him, Jack came back…in a big way.  
  
John had just left for work and Sam was drifting back to sleep, despite the pain in her back and the fact that she couldn't sleep on her stomach as she liked to, when she heard the front door opening. Thinking it was John coming back because he forgot something, Sam extracted her bulk from the warm bed and padded to the hallway. When she looked towards the foyer, the figure standing in the doorway was not John. Sam gasped and her mind froze with terror. JACK.  
  
He stood in the living room, looking at various framed pictures on the mantle of the brick fireplace. When Sam had emerged from the hall, he had instantly spotted her.  
  
"Ah…Samantha…" the serial killer whispered. Hearing the voice she hated so much jerked Sam back to reality. Her FBI training kicked in and she instantly weighed her chances of making it to the hall closet where John's extra gun was. *Duh, Sam! You can't reach it without a ladder,* she thought, then went for the swinging kitchen doors, intent on finding the largest knife she could get her hands on. Jack realized what she was doing and pursued. Sam was ahead, only because the bastard had to jump over the couch, but Sam lost her lead struggling with nervous hands to open the kitchen drawers. *There's no way I can fight.* Nevertheless, fight she did. Sam lashed out at Jack with the knife, slicing his arm and causing him to cry out in pain before he grabbed her forcibly and crushed her hand into the kitchen counter, making her drop the knife. *If I weren't pregnant, I'd be able to run.*  
  
Disregarding the bloody knife on the ground, Jack extracted a .45 from his coat pocket. Sam flinched as she heard the metallic click of the slug being loaded into the chamber. She wanted nothing more than to be able to run, but she knew by the look in his eyes that he would shoot her if she tried. Despite that, she knew she had to do something. *When John comes home and I'm not here, he won't think of Jack. It's been too long. I have to remind him, I have got to make the biggest mess possible. Then, John will know I was abducted.*  
  
"I will kill you, Samantha," Jack told her menacingly. Images of all the people Jack had slaughtered, her daughter included, flashed through her over-active imagination as Jack reached for her. When she pulled away disgustedly, Jack grabbed her hand. As a last resort, Sam flung out her other arm, knocking glasses, plates, and even appliances, to the tile floor. It was hard, but she succeeded on making a mess. Jack dragged her into the living room, where she proceeded to knock over vases, picture frames, and anything else light enough to be disturbed.  
  
"Stop it!!" Jack finally yelled, pointing the gun straight at her. Sam stopped instantly, the psychologist in her starting to analyze him, knowing that he wasn't bluffing. Although she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her afraid, she could feel the tears sliding down her cheeks. *He will kill me right here. He feels betrayed because I married John and am having his baby. He hates me for it.*  
  
"We are leaving now, Samantha. If you don't do exactly what I say, you will die."  
  
The memories of Jack's victims came back, this time accompanied by images of their grieving families. Even if Jack killed her, she would not die in the house. She wouldn't allow John to return home to find his wife and unborn child dead in a pool of blood on the living room carpet. *He cannot have that memory.*  
  
Jack forced Sam out of the house, leaving the door wide open, and into a gray van that waited in the driveway. He left her in the darkness, locking the double doors. Sam could hear him climbing into the front. Then, she heard him talking to someone, but couldn't make out what he was saying. No voice replied, so she surmised that her was talking on a telephone. Either that, or he was talking to himself. *That wouldn't surprise me,* Sam thought, as the tears continued to fall.  
  
When the van stopped, Sam saw that they had been driving for forty- five minutes. Another eight or nine hours before John would come home from work to find her gone. The double doors opened, and Jack climbed into the back with her. Before Sam knew what was going on, he struck her in the back of her head with some sort of blunt object, rendering her unconscious.  
  
The first pain of a contraction woke Sam from her semi-comatose state.  
  
"Oh…God, no…" she whispered, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She struggled, only to find her hands cuffed behind a support beam.  
  
"Help me! Somebody help me!" she yelled. Jack came out of the darkness and slapped her face.  
  
"Shut up!" he growled.  
  
"What do you want from me?!" Sam yelled back, afraid. Her face stung where he had struck her, but it was nothing compared to the contractions she was trying to hide from him. He will not get my baby.  
  
"Isn't it obvious, Samantha? I want you!"  
  
"We've already had this conversation, Jack" she answered, remembering their meeting at the train station when he had tried to kill Nick Cooper.  
  
"That was a long time ago. Besides, now you're with someone else. Will you never learn that I'm the only one for you?"  
  
"Go fuck yourself."  
  
"That's not nice, Samantha."  
  
"To hell with you." Sam replied, fighting another contraction. They were far apart; she still had time, she just wondered how long. Jack reached out to touch her face, but she yanked her head away.  
  
"Why will you let him touch you, but not me?"  
  
"I love him. I'll never love you."  
  
"But look what he's done to you…"  
  
"I'm glad he did. You can do a lot of things to me, Jack, but you will never do what John can do, never. If I ever was going to have your child, I'd kill myself."  
  
"Not if I kill you first…" Jack replied, and struck her again. She immediately felt warm blood on her lips. Hitting her repeatedly, she passed out. 


	7. Rescue

Chapter Seven  
  
*It wasn't this bad with Chloe,* Sam thought as her body convulsed. Jack had caught on that she was in labor when he had seen that her water had broken. He uncuffed her from the support beam and she rested fully on the mattress that was underneath her.  
  
The labor was short; probably because this was her second, but it was hard. Jack wouldn't let her scream or even cry out and she wanted desperately for John, or even anyone else she loved to be there. Anyone but Jack. All the classes she and John had gone to were immediately forgotten. She didn't want to push, she didn't want the baby to be born. If it could only wait…But there is no waiting when it comes to nature, or serial killers, and Jack made her push. When the baby was born, she heard it cry once, and saw the huge smile on Jack's ugly face. Then, the two were gone.  
  
"Please…please let me see it. Please tell me…come back…" Sam pleaded wearily, lying her head on the mattress. Silent tears fell as she shook in pain and fear. *He has my baby…*  
  
She fought unconsciousness for as long as she could, but finally was forced to succumb by sheer pain and fatigue.  
  
Looking down at his newborn baby, John desperately wanted to hold it, to see if he had a son or daughter, but needed to find Sam. Sam hadn't let the doctor tell them what sex the baby was, siting the element of surprise. They would pick out a girl name and a boy name and find out soon enough, she had said.  
  
"Bring it to Grace," John told the officer. When the baby was safely in Grace's arms, he climbed the steps, motioned for backup, and opened the door.  
  
Inside, the house was just like the other, except John had no fear of Jack jumping out at him, only boobytraps and trip wires, and a fear of what he would find when he found Sam.  
  
"Sam!" John yelled into the darkness as he instinctively headed for the basement. "Sammy! Answer me!"  
  
*I must be losing my mind,* Sam thought as she heard John's strong voice calling her. *John's come to rescue me…it's about damn time,* she thought as his calls grew closer and more persistent.  
  
"John…" she whispered, out of strength. The basement door opened, sending a dim ray of light into the dark room.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"John…I'm here…"  
  
"Oh, thank God, Sammy." John made his way to her and pulled her into his arms as best he could with her wrist cuffed to the wall. As he squeezed her, Sam cried fresh tears and forgot about the pain that he was causing her by squeezing so tightly.  
  
"You…you found me…" Sam said tiredly, holding onto him as tightly as she could. An officer unlocked the handcuffs and she could be securely enfolded in her husband's arms. John kissed her forehead and cried his own tears.  
  
"He…Jack…he killed… he killed the baby…" Sam stammered, crying.  
  
"What?" John asked her, certain she was in shock.  
  
"The baby…it's gone…" she replied slowly, taking a scared breath between each word. She needed to get to a hospital; John could feel her shaking.  
  
"No, its not. It's outside, Grace has it. Its safe, Sammy, the baby is safe."  
  
"Jack?"  
  
"He's dead."  
  
With John's assurance that everything was fine, Sam allowed herself to mercifully fall asleep in his arms, knowing that she would be safe.  
  
Sam awoke in the hospital a day later with tubes and wires running from her body to all sorts of machines. Turning her head, she saw her husband's dark head resting on the bed next to her arm. Her face hurt; she was sure she had bruises, and she could see blood seeping though the crisp white bandage on her right wrist. She wasn't hungry anymore; probably thanks to the IV tubes in her arm, but she was still very tired and sore.  
  
"John?" she asked, quietly. He immediately lifted his head, his green eyes meeting hers.  
  
"Hey, sleepyhead. I see you're finally awake." He took her hand in his and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Tired. Sore. Otherwise, just fine. Do you think I can see the baby?" John smiled, he had been wondering how long it would be before she asked.  
  
"You mean, our son?" he replied, smiling the biggest grin Sam had ever seen. *He looks like a little boy on Christmas,* she thought.  
  
"We have a son!?" she exclaimed as the words sunk in. John nodded and abruptly left the room. He returned less than five minutes later holding the baby. He placed the small bundle in her arms.  
  
Looking at her son, Sam inhaled sharply. "He's so beautiful." She looked at John, her eyes filled with gratitude and love.  
  
"I love you, Sammy." John said, hugging her gently to not hurt her or his son.  
  
"I love you, too." She replied. The baby made a little sound and his parents smiled. "And, of course, we love you, too." Sam told him. She fell asleep holding her new son in her arms and holding John's hand as he sat next to her, watching his new family sleep.  
  
  
  
The End 


End file.
